


Sacrifice of Will

by LordSaucy



Category: Scion (Tabletop RPG)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 11:10:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10592781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordSaucy/pseuds/LordSaucy
Summary: What in all the fucks, I braced myself on my right hand and pushed myself to my feet, and stared out into the dark jungle below. My foot caught on unworked rock scuffing slightly as I moved closer to the edge of the platform I was on. Wait...not a platform… There were steps, a nearly infinite number of steps leading from the jungle far below up to where I was.





	

It was colder than usual for Mexico City in December. The grounds of the now decrepit Templo Mayor were covered with a thin layer of frost causing me to lose my footing once or twice on the way through the large expanse of rock and debris. It was easier than I thought to break in. The guard’s patterns were easy to follow, and the five minute gap between rounds was more than enough time to hop the ten foot high chain link fence and book it out of the reach of the spotlights. 

 

I just needed a place to crash for a few hours. Hotels were a no go--too much of a chance for a paper trail, and I didn’t like to be confined. I’d spent too much of my life in a suite. No, the temple grounds were, pardon the pun, a godsend. Open air, guards to dissuade anyone coming up to bother me, and it wasn’t open for visitors the next day, so as long as I could find a small space to set up I could take a break. I’d been running for far too long at this point.

 

I stumbled a few more times on my way around the grounds and finally decided on setting up camp under one of the constructed canopies that covered parts of the ruined temple. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but at the very least it would keep me out of the sun and out of the view of any guards that would be walking by during the day. Chunks of ancient rock loudly clattered behind me as I made my way up the slope to make my nest near the top by where the canopy met the top of the small hill. 

 

_ This’ll do _ . I unshouldered my loaded duffel bag and shoved it upward to make that my pillow. It was going to be task enough to find a way to sleep on the heap of broken rock, but I might as well try to make myself as comfortable as possible. Downside of my chosen sleeping position was the cool breeze that made its way under the tarp. It was just strong enough to make me just that much more uncomfortable. 

 

I laid myself down on the pile of rubble and turned my head to the right toward where I had entered to keep watch. I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure I wasn’t followed. Thankfully a healthy dose of paranoia had kept me alive this long. I would follow my routine that I had kept for my last month on the run--keep vigil until my eyes wouldn’t stay open. However my eyelids were heavy--I wasn’t going to be able to stay up for long. 

  
  


* * *

 

“Wake up, child,” I bolted upright forgetting where I was for a moment and was surprised to find that I didn’t face plant into the tarp. Instead I found myself sitting fully erect in a completely unfamiliar place. 

 

_What in all the fucks_ , I braced myself on my right hand and pushed myself to my feet, and stared out into the dark jungle below. My foot caught on unworked rock scuffing slightly as I moved closer to the edge of the platform I was on. _Wait...not a platform…_ There were steps, a nearly infinite number of steps leading from the jungle far below up to where I was. 

 

I looked into the wind to my left, and saw a glow coming from the open entry of a room behind me. It was made of stone that was slightly more worked than the one I was standing on and had carvings of birds on it, with small inlaid colored rocks decorating the walls in hues of blue and green. 

 

The chill due to the wind was beginning to become unbearable. I pulled down the hem of my tank top from where it had ridden up in my sleep and headed towards the glow of what I hoped would be a warming fire. 

 

As I approached I could see a bit further into the room, and noticed that there was someone inside casting a shadow. My pace slowed as I curved closer to the wall of the room trying not to be seen by whomever was inside. I could see from my new vantage point that the shadow was low--as if the person casting it was sitting before the fire. 

 

I could feel some of the warmth from where I was but it wasn’t enough. The wind up here was unforgivingly cold and I was afraid my teeth would shatter from how hard they were chattering.

 

“Are you going to stand out there all night? I can wait.” A deep bass voice from inside cut through the whispering of the wind and seemed to bring more of the warmth with it. 

 

_ Fuck _ , I scrunched my eyes shut in dismay. Whoever it was in there had been expecting me, and from their tone knew I didn’t have much of a choice about coming inside. 

 

I stepped out from next to the wall and into the center of the opening that was the doorway into the small room. It was only fifteen feet across at best. The back of the room was taken up by an altar, with a large black stone bowl and what looked to be dried blood staining the rock below it. 

 

The blood and the altar would have been more concerning had it not been for the man casting the shadow. He was seated before a fire pit in the center of the room, his legs folded beneath him. His right arm showed dark mocha skin covered with burnt deep red tribal tattoos, and the left was covered with...feathers?

 

The man turned his face to look over his shoulder at me, giving me a better look at the left side of him. The feathers seemed to be growing from the skin on the left side of his body with an iridescent shine like a hummingbird’s in the flickering light. The feathers lay perfectly sculpted to his chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and even over the side of his nose. A bright amber eye hidden amongst the feathers shone with unbridled power and a rage I had never seen before. 

 

His clawed hand gestured to an open swath of floor to his left. “Sit,” his tone left no room for question. Even if I wasn’t so intrigued by the bird man in front of me I couldn’t have stayed where I wanted. My legs had begun moving of their own accord, carrying me to the spot he dictated. 

 

As I wound around the man slowly I noticed smaller things like the way his deep black hair hung low over his eyes like a curtain, or how the feathers on his left half stopped perfectly down the center of his body. He was wearing nothing but a loin cloth, showing every single muscle he had. The dude was ripped, and every inch of skin that wasn’t covered by feathers was covered by the geometric patterns that made up his tribal tattoos. 

 

My legs gave up on me as soon as I was in the spot the man wanted me to sit at causing me to collapse unceremoniously to the stone floor. My tailbone took the brunt of the fall, and I let out an ‘umph’ of discomfort. The man to my right snorted and looked back to the fire.

 

“You have no idea who I am, do you, child?” The slight glint of moisture on his full lips immediately caught my attention and brought it back from thinking about my aching butt. 

 

“No,” I responded quietly, “should I?” The man with the amber eyes glanced over at me and smirked before fixating once more on the fire. 

 

“Yes, you should, Abby Arana.”

 

_ So he knows me,  _ I frowned. This was weird--and after seeing the full visage of this guy, I was nearly a hundred percent I was dreaming. 

 

“So what if you are? That doesn’t mean this isn’t real.” His voice cut through the silence once more. I snapped my attention back to him, astounded that my dream was aware he was a dream, and was bringing reality into question. My head hurt.

 

“So I _am_ dreaming, but this is also real?” My eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

 

The man simply nodded. “You’re hard to get a hold of,” he sounded approving. “It had to be done. Usually I would visit in person...but…your choice of resting place made this too easy.”

 

_Choice of…?_ _Oh._ _OH._ My eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. I fell asleep in the ruins of an Aztec temple, and so now I was dreaming of an Aztec god.

 

Growing up during my studies I had done some research on the Aztecs and their gods. Many had specific imagery assigned to each one. The bird on the outside of this room, along with his feathers and their iridescence lead me to believe I was speaking with Huitzilopochtli, God of war, sun, and human sacrifice.

 

He sat there appraising me while he watched the pieces click into place. 

 

“ That isn’t why you’re dreaming of me. You’re dreaming of me because I willed it. We need to speak,” he sounded offended that I even entertained the idea of my being in control of any of this. 

 

“ About what?” I was growing impatient with the lack of information I was getting. 

 

“ Your family,” my eyes narrowed, “your real family.”  _ What _ ? 

 

I had known for a long time that the people that raised me, the people I called mother and father weren’t my biological parents. I had found an article my mother had kept locked in her wall safe detailing a shootout from when I would have been six months old. Two cartels had gotten in a firefight on the streets, and a young mother had been caught in the crossfire. From the belongings found with her, there should have been a child with the body, but no infant was ever found. Along with the article wrapped in a plastic bag was a bloodstained baby blanket. 

 

“ What do you know about them,” I leaned forward closer to the fire to get a better read of his full expression. 

 

“ Your mother, Maria, was originally from this city. She visited the ruins often to pray quietly, that's how we came into contact.” Meaning filled eyes slid away from the fire to lock with mine. “She was a beautiful woman; strong. It is unfortunate she died.”

 

“ You visited her?”

 

“ I did, several times. The last time we made you,” his eyes suddenly took on a softer tone, one that I had seen all too often ever since my adopted brother was born. It was the look of a proud father--one that was never shared with me personally in my eighteen years. 

 

I could feel my cheeks growing warmer as he started at me. This look was all too foreign and it made me uncomfortable--that and its connotations.  _ I’m the child of a God?  _ My step parents had raised me Catholic so I guess looking back on those teachings we were all children of God, but I was sure that’s not what he was getting at. 

 

“ Yes,” he answered my thoughts yet again. “It is blood that binds us, Abby Arana.” Huitzilopochtli looked back to the flickering flames, and I immediately felt my cheeks cool somewhat. “You will believe on your own soon enough. I know you are still convinced this isn’t real. I don’t have time to convince you, there are matters we must speak of.” 

 

I blinked a few times rapid-fire after he finished talking. His omniscience was frightening enough on his own, without the hint of ire that rolled off him at the mention of my disbelief. If I wanted to keep this dream from turning into a nightmare, I would have to play ball.   


“ Like what?” I tilted my head to punctuate the question. 

 

He laughed a deep thunderous rumble and stood, his clawed foot scraping across the uneven stone as he did. “Your purpose.” He moved gracefully around the fire opposite me towards the altar, hard muscles moving below taut skin and feathers. Huitzilopochtli pulled out an object from behind the black bloodstained bowl that rested upon the stone slab and held it out to me from across the fire. The object was a shiny smooth black stone rod that ended in a rocky orb made of the same material. The rocky bit looked dense and sharp. I reached out for the club and noticed that it had a weight to it that was more than what should be possible--yet my arm barely dipped from its mass. 

 

“ This is your second gift. An obsidian maul, use it to dispatch those that would stop you from your purpose.” I nodded as I brought the maul closer to me and rested it across my lap, unsure if placing it on the floor would offend him.

 

“ Wait-second?” I questioned quietly. “What do you mean, second?”

 

“ The first is your newfound strength. Without it you wouldn’t be able to wield the maul.” 

 

“ Oh,” I looked at my arms--they didn’t seem any bigger. I didn’t have any more muscle than when I had fallen asleep in the ruins. Huitzilopochtli’s soft chuckle brought my attention back to him.

 

“ Not all of your gifts will be obvious, daughter. It is always good to have a mix of the hidden, and the brazen. What is the saying….don’t show your whole hand? This is true of us--never show all of your talents, let your enemies guess as to how powerful you are.”

 

I nodded at his words. This was true of my previous occupation as well. I rotated the maul on my lap absentmindedly while he reached behind the bowl again, and came back with what looked like a folded cloth of hummingbird feathers similar to the ones that graced the left side of his body. 

 

Huitzilopochtli shook out the folded cloth to reveal what seemed to be a long sleeveless coat made up by what was probably millions of tiny feathers. My right brow quirked at the garment as it gleamed in the firelight. “Isn’t this rather uhhh...obvious?”

 

“ Child, you are better than humanity, now. Why hide?”

 

_ Because I’m on the run from a cartel, and hiding out will be kind of hard wearing an iridescent coat?  _ The change in his expression showed that he had heard my sarcastic thought. I lowered my head in apology as a fresh wave of anger rolled off of him. 

 

“You _are_ better than them, now,” he spat. “They cannot touch you.” He threw the coat over the fire and hit hit me full force in the face. I quickly gathered the edge closest to the fire to me and kept my gaze down. _Shit this guy is scary._

 

“ Hmph,” came his reply from the other side of the room as he bent again over the altar and grabbed a knife that seemed to be made of the same obsidian as the maul he had given me. He held his arm out over the great black unworked bowl and dug the knife deep into his arm, pulling the knife in the direction of his elbow. 

 

My eyes widened at the display, and a small tinge of fear that I would be asked to do the same danced in the back of my mind. His dark crimson blood flowed freely into the bowl, both of us watching the small river intently. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as I watched, and my vision narrowed to the bubbling red. There was a truth and simplicity to it--everything of import in the world hinged on life-giving blood. Without blood there was no sentient life. As I sat with the idea I became less and less afraid of being asked to share in the bloodletting. 

 

After another minute Huitzilopochtli’s fist clenched and the blood gave one final spurt into the bowl before he slapped his clawed hand over the wound. He turned and acknowledged me again for the first time since he had picked up the knife. “Remove your clothing, I need to give you your last gift.”

 

“ What is it?” My eyes squinted slightly at his request.

 

He reached down behind the now blood filled bowel and grabbed a stick that had a few sharpened sticks attached to it. My eyes widened as I realized that he meant to give me a tattoo, probably not unlike the ones he sported on his bare skin. I followed the geometric shapes and designs that graced his own body. They were simplistic, on their own yet intricate in the way they connected to one another. 

 

Still, though I was undoubtedly excited for this opportunity, my hands shook as they folded the feathered coat into what I hoped I could use as a pillow for this endeavor. The maul which had been laid across my lap since I had received it was placed with a tiny ‘clack’ on the stone floor. 

 

My legs were asleep as I tried to stand, and I nearly face planted into the fire once before gaining my bearings and taking a step back towards the wall behind me. The rough surface scratched my shoulders when I crossed my arms at the hem of my shirt to lift the white cotton tank top over my head revealing the black bra beneath. I then pressed my back to the stone once more and slid down a bit to cross one foot over a bent knee to take off my boots so I could get at my pants.

 

All the while Huitzilopochtli, once he saw I was heeding his commands was busying himself in preparing to give me my tattoo. The needles went back on the altar replaced by the bowl in his hands. He slowly made his way over near doorway of the room, and set the bowl out just out of reach of the warmth of the fire. He then headed back, grabbed the needle stick, and a brilliant white cloth and headed back to the bowl, sitting to the right of it . His gaze was locked on the skyline outside, probably on the giant moon that rose above the precipice of the temple. 

 

My combat boots made hollow ‘thunk’s as they hit the floor. I kicked them away from the fire, just in case this was real and reached for the button of my pants. The only thing holding my cargoes up was my wide hips. As soon as the button was undone they fell to the floor in a heap of canvas. I slid my underwear down as well over my prickly legs, and my nose turned up at the natural scent of me. It’d been awhile since my last shower.  

 

I was beginning to feel self conscious as I undid my bra, releasing my breasts from their underwire prison. I had a sleek athletic frame, but being naked in the presence of a God, dream or not, father or not was edging on my last shred of self esteem. 

 

Finally, I was naked and ready to receive my last gift. I knelt down and picked up my hummingbird coat and when I stood I found Huitzilopochtli reaching out to me, his eyes locked on mine. There again was that look. ‘ _I’m proud’_ it said ‘ _You’ll be fine’_. 

 

I managed a small smile in return and took his hand and was relieved of my coat. He positioned me so I was lying on my back with my feet toward the fire, and my head out of the door of the temple. From my vantage point I had a full view of the large moon hanging low in the deep purple sky. It was breathtaking, and calming all at once. 

 

“ Are you ready,” Huitzilopochtli’s deep voice resonated within my body from the proximity. I nodded the affirmative and was met with the clink of the needles hitting the obsidian bowl, bathing in the impromptu ink. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

The tattoo hurt like a  _ bitch _ . This hands down was the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life, and I had broken several bones. Not only did it hurt, but it took forever--I had counted numerous times to make sure and there was only five needles on that stick, which meant the needles only held so much blood ink between them. Now as much as I loved the patterns of the tribal tattoos, the variation in line thickness was beginning to annoy me. There was so much room to be covered, especially since he had started on my left foot and was barely up to my ribs.

 

I t had taken me longer than I’d care to admit that I was getting the full body tattoo from Huitzilopochtli. When he had gotten to my knee, and showed no signs of slowing, I looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears I refused to shed in a bid to keep from falling to pieces from pain and asked how much more there was to go.

 

“ Until your left side is completed.” I paled.

 

“ When will that be?”

 

“ When we get to your jaw.”

 

_ Oh _ .  _ Shit _ .

 

It was agony no doubt, but Huitzilopochtli did little things to try and make the process more bearable. I soon realized why we had moved so far from the fire to do this--the sunburn feeling left by the needles felt instantly better against the cool stone. It was a small reprieve from the bouts of sharp pain the needles inflicted. 

 

Huitzilopochtli was quick, though, and precise. When I was allowed a break to look, the deep red lines were puffed out due to inflammation, but even in that state were sharp and exact. He told me that the blood ink would darken to a deep maroon once it began to heal. He talked a lot during the process and did what he could to keep my my mind off of the needle pounding into my skin. 

 

He talked a lot about my purpose. 

 

“ I don’t interact with humanity often,” he started, “to little time for that. However when I find someone worth the interaction, someone...devout, I make the time.”

 

“ Like for my mother,” I questioned through gritted teeth.

 

“ Exactly her. Since our temple fell to ruin, there’s been less and less who adhere to the old ways. Less and less who believe in us. Your mother was rare in that aspect. Most people that come here are tourists, she was here to pray.”

 

I nodded in response, my pain threshold though pretty great, was beginning to wane. He had made it up to the top of my ribs and through most of my back. I shuddered to think of what would happen when he got to my breast. 

 

“ Without devout followers, we aren’t as powerful as we used to be. There is a power in prayer, and we have been lacking for a long time.” Huitzilopochtli’s voice tinged on bitter in that last statement, but when he continued, his voice was back to its even-tempered flow. “Your purpose, my daughter, is to bring the devout back to our ways, or create them anew.” 

 

“So I’m a recruiter?” He snorted and motioned for me to flip to my front. _Oh fuck._ I was excited to quell the burning on my back, but equally as frightened of the pain beginning anew on my front. I flipped, gingerly my breast rolling as I did so--it wasn’t too large, maybe a small C-cup, so it hopefully wouldn’t take too long.

 

“ If you would like to think of it that way, yes. This doesn’t involve literature and going door-to-door, though. It is blood, and battle. Other gods of other pantheons are doing the same with their children. There is something coming--something that you won’t be ready to join in for a while yet. You will need to be strong when it happens. A lot stronger than you are now. Your survival depends on it.”

 

I made a garbled ‘mmmhmm’ as the needles struck my skin nearing the bottom of the mound of my breast. The patterns he was doing left very little room for rhythm at this point, so I couldn’t tell when the next strike was coming, versus the next reprieve. 

 

I looked to the moon for solace--the moon that hung in the very same spot all those hours ago in the never ending night. Of course with this being a dream it made some sort of sense that the moon wouldn’t move. Still, it felt like days since he had started with the tattoo, and though we were nearing the end, I wasn’t sure on how much more I could take without passing out. 

 

A warm large hand touched my left breast and moved it up stretching the skin and preparing it for the needle’s bite. The moon was no longer a comfort. I was tired of being in pain--I just wanted this to be done. Now. 

 

Then it happened--the first strike against my breast, and my nerve endings lit up like a vegas marquee, dancing and flashing with notes of unbearable pain. No other part of my tattoo had hurt this bad--not even when the needles struck bone. 

 

The edges of my vision began to darken. I blinked repeatedly trying to bring back my full field of view, but it continued to shrink despite my protests. Huitzilopochtli continued on unaware of how bad the pain had gotten. His words that this was just a dream rang through my head once more and I tried desperately to wake myself up--but nothing worked. I was stuck, and slowly fading.

 

He worked his way diligently up my breast until he was at its peak and that's when I lost my grip on silence and consciousness. I let out a scream of pain before delving deep into the bliss of unconsciousness. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

A tousled lock of hair tickling my nose was the first thing to rouse me from my slumber. It was icy cold and wet.  _ Where am I _ ? The last thing that came to mind was this intense vivid dream I was having about Huitzilopochtli.

 

I reached up and swatted the offending hair from my face before taking a long moment to rub my eyes. I actually felt rested, which is rare when you’re on the run. I guess I had slept hard. I shifted my weight and felt a few sharp pokes in my back. _Rocks? Oh yeah…_ I remembered where I was now. Sleeping on a pile of rubble under a tarp in the ruins of the Templo Mayor. 

 

I snorted to myself, at the ludicrousness of that dream, and using my boot-clad feet inched myself down the rock pile a bit so I could sit and wake up. I was starving and needed room to grab an energy bar from my duffel bag. 

 

I pulled myself down a couple feet and opened my eyes. _Yup, just where you left yourself._ From the gray in the air it was overcast outside, and the canvas tarp above me was wet and dripping in some places. I guess unless I wanted to get soaked and catch cold I shouldn’t stay here longer than needed. The only necessary thing I could think of right now was to regain my bearings and eat breakfast. Twenty minutes. Tops.

 

I turned to my right and reached out with my left hand for the pouch where my smashed energy bars were kept, nearly missing the new addition to my skin. 

 

“ What the  _ fuck _ ,” I yelled not caring about being heard at this point. For right now all I was worried about was the intricate dark red patterns that covered the tops of my fingers, the back of my hand and flowed up my arm. I was dressed but from what I could see from beneath my somewhat sheer tank top, the rest of me was covered as well, and I was sure that if I had a mirror, the patterns would continue up to my jaw.

 

_It was real?_ I looked around the pile of rubble and sure enough found the obsidian maul as well as the sleeveless hummingbird coat. _What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,_ the mantra repeated in my head as I scrambled to make sense of what was going on. The only thing, the only possibility that I could settle on was that somehow, in my dreams I had met with Huitzilopochtli, my true father, and had been given gifts to help me on my journey. 

 

_Gain more devout,_ I thought as I ran my hands through my ratty-from-sleep hair. _Okay, you can do this. But first, breakfast._ I wanted real food, and dammit, since everything that had happened in that dream seemed to be real maybe Huitzilopochtli’s words were, as well:   _they cannot touch you._

 

I had seen a diner maybe ten minutes walk back into the city that had the most delicious smells wafting out of it when I had walked by the night before. Even at ten pm, it was packed, and surely would be full up during the day. I would go there and have myself a real breakfast for the first time in months.

 

I grabbed the coat and shook it out, and finally allowed myself to smooth the feathers that comprised it. It was so soft, but even if I pulled the feathers wouldn’t budge. I looked on the inside and saw a strap on the right front part of the coat, a simple velcro strap that just seemed so out of place I wondered if it was a design oversight. I shrugged and threw it over my shoulders and slid my arms through the holes and pulled it tight around my body. Perfect fit to be worn open or closed. I smiled down at my chest, probably looking like some sort of crazy person before seeing to the maul.

 

_What do I do with this?_ I picked it up one handed, and was surprised that my small wrist could support the weight. There was zero room in my duffel bag for it, unless I unloaded a major amount of cash first, but I needed that cash to get me across the border and into the states. _Fuck_.

 

The thought crossed my mind that Huitzilopochtli  wouldn’t have given me this gift and expect me to get very far without having to leave a bloodied trail in my wake to get to wherever I needed to go. No. There had to be a trick to this. 

 

I moved further down the embankment and did my best to figure out what to do with my new weapon. The spiky bit on the end was too big and spiky to be sheathed in my pants like you could do with something like a cricket bat or a machete, I would just end up cutting myself repeatedly. The thickness of the maul itself would leave no room for hiding it either. 

 

Giving up and just carrying it like I didn’t give a damn was seeming like the best option, when a cross breeze blew my coat open revealing the strap again. I looked at it closer and saw that it was thick, and seemed to be more heavy duty than the rest of the coat. _No._ I narrowed my eyes in suspicion and brought the handle of the maul up to the strap. Looking down it was more obvious that this is where it was supposed to go, the largest spike on the bulbed end was even with the hem of the coat.

 

_How am I supposed to move?_ I looked incredulously at the set up, and decided that I might as well test it and see how much my movement would be hindered. I switched the maul to my right hand so I could use my left to strap it into my coat. As soon as I stuck the velcro together, I felt the weight of the maul disappear. My eyes widened and I shut the coat over the maul expecting to see a long ridge in the coat, but instead was met with the peaks and valleys of my slim frame.

 

_The coat hides the weapon?_ I opened the coat again and saw that the strap was closed, but didn’t see the maul at all. I reached for the maul and felt nothing. _Oh god--did I lose it?_ I desperately fumbled for the handle of the maul and after a moment hit pay dirt. The large black club seemed to materialize out of nowhere as I pulled it free from the coat. _So that’s the trick,_ I smirked. _You gotta know what you’re going for._

 

Re-securing the maul in my coat took a matter of seconds and then I was off back up the steep incline for my bag. I felt lighter on my feet as I went, and barely rustled any of the rocks on my way up. Once I grabbed my bag, though the thick canvas pulled at my skin, I realized that it didn’t feel as heavy as it had the night before. If I hadn’t known any better I would have thought that someone had stolen half my stash while I was asleep. But no, I found the bag to still be full to the brim as I opened it to double check and grab myself a few bills for breakfast. 

 

The wind was picking up to the point of being at a constant whistle, causing the light drizzle to come in sideways under the tarp.  _ The walk is going to be fun _ , I frowned and started off back the direction I had come the night before. The cold was biting, but not as bad as it had been in the nighttime hours, I could make it to the cafe without freezing. 

 

I wasn’t worried about guards today due to my new found lineage. I stepped brazenly out from under the tarp and headed toward the fence I had hopped to get in. The sun was hidden by a thick curtain of clouds masking the time of day. Rocks jostled gently beneath my feet as I headed up the incline to the fence. It was twelve feet tall--over twice my height. I stared up at the top of the fence with disdain. I didn’t feel like hopping this again. My gaze now fell to the ground where the wire that kept the links together was half hidden in dirt. 

 

_ I should be strong enough to break this, right?  _ My head tilted at my silent query. I decided to give it a go, and hope for the best. I knelt down, my knee digging into the damp dirt and grabbed the wire and gave a sharp pull. There was a quick snap and a release as the two ends of the wire curled away from me. I smiled and grabbed at the chainlink and pulled up as hard as I could. The think metal wires bent easily to my will and after a minute or two I had a five foot high hole in the fence that I could walk though with a minor stoop. 

 

A giggle of glee forced its way out of my chest as I passed through the new opening. My fear of my pursuers was fading fast and was instead replaced by a newfound sense of self-esteem. Sure I knew I had skills before, but now--with what basically amounted to superpowers? 

 

“ Holy shit,” I muttered as I came up to the main road that would take me towards the diner. For once I felt unstoppable, like the world was my oyster, and  Huitzilopochtli’s words came back to me:

 

_ You’re better than them. They cannot touch you. _

 

 


End file.
